"Of course I see what you're after, but I've done all that myself. Honour bright, that about the furniture was the first slip of the kind I've made. But I've made one discovery."
"What's that?"
"You're starting at the wrong end. That memory's all right. It's the other one I've sometimes wondered about."
"Ah! The one you call your 'B' Memory! Do you mean—it sounds an odd way of putting it, but I suppose it's all right—do you mean you don't remember what sort of thing you'll be doing, say, next year?"
"Not very clearly, George. Sometimes that seems an absolutely unknown adventure. And sometimes it's like that queer feeling—I expect you know it—that you've been somewhere before, or done something before, or heard the same thing before. It lasts for a second, and then it's gone."
"Do you think it will continue like that?"
"I've stopped thinking about it."
"That page you repeated just now. That wasn't a stock page you—keep in rehearsal, so to speak?"
I considered my next question carefully. But there was no avoiding it; it had to be put. I watched him deliberately.